MORTIFIED

Remember when I wrote some funny memories from high school? That was fun. Let's go there again.

This is actually a junior high story, which means it was ten times more excruciatingly embarrassing at the time. But it requires a lot of background information.

One of the biggest traditions of eighth grade was President's Day, where we were assigned Presidents and First Ladies to research for a grade in our American History class. We had to write reports on them, and then the week of President's Day, in February, there was a big banquet where we had to dress up in character and parade - literally - around all day with our partner. After the parade (which was through the halls of the elementary school), some of the moms dressed up as "White House staff" and served us lunch and then there was a ceremony with speeches, music and a speaker. My partner and I were President and Mrs. Andrew Jackson.

After the banquet, there was a dance, so part of our Physical Education curriculum that semester was to learn dances through the ages. We learned line dances, square dances, the waltz, the polka (which was basically holding hands and running amok) and several promenade in a circle while hop-step-stepping dances.

So in PE class, we had to learn all of these dances. Our PE teacher (Pam), who you really have to know for this story to be funny, told the girls that if there was a boy we wanted to dance with, to tell her, and she'd pair us up in an "inconspicuous way."

Well, I had a huge, enormous, MASSIVE crush on a certain boy whom we'll just call M. And there the story begins.

So one day we're in gym, and it's a ballroom dance day. The boys' PE teacher and Pam would pair us up in different ways every day, ranging from "find someone with the same color shirt as you" to "stand alphabetically on this line and just pair up in order." However, there were more girls than boys in my particular PE class, so the smart girls figured out that getting at the end of the line meant that you later got to cut in on whichever couple you wanted to.

Well, I had given Pam the signal that I wanted to dance with M. We all head into the gym, where we are told to stand in two lines.

"Okay, here we go!" she yelled. "You," (boy at the front of the line) "and you" (girl at the front of the line); "You," (boy) "and you" (girl). She did this for about 30 seconds until my crush was at the front of the boys' line.

I don't know if she hated me or what. She was also our cheerleading coach and had been nice to me thus far, so why her goal that day was to embarrass me more than I had ever been embarrassed in my 13 years on earth, I'm not sure.

"You," (points to my crush, a bell [demon?] goes off inside her head) "and LEEENDSAY!!!! WHAR'S LEEENDSAY? LEEENDSAY? LEENDS- okay you two. And now you, and you; you and you..."

Inconspicuous my ass. I wanted to die. In one swift move, Pam had made it clear to M - and the rest of our class - that I had a crush on him (I am 90% sure M knew anyway), and in case the braces, greasy bangs and general awkwardness weren't already doing a fine job of turning him off, Pam's little stunt sealed the deal.

So there I was, totally humiliated but "dancing" with my crush. It was the closest I'd ever been to him. We had only done like two dances, the boring ones that involved basically looking at each other while moving your feet around (aka NO HOLDING HANDS) when Pam yelled for the girls to rotate.

Well of COURSE the prettiest girl in our class, the ballerina with hair like spun silk, floats over to us to rotate in. Apparently I was not the only one with a crush on M. I wanted to punch her cold. As if I hadn't suffered enough that day, now I don't even get to enjoy the fruits of my suffering all the way until the end of class?! It was an absolute crime.

Needless to say, M and I never "went out," and that was the last time I ever spoke to my PE teacher.

Hop, step step... You wouldn't want to dance with this either!